


I Will Hear Your Heart

by mvernet



Series: A Great Big War [1]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Angst, Cave-In, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Song Inspired, When The Morning Comes/Great Big world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an allied aircraft accidentally bombs Stalag Thirteen, Carter and Newkirk are trapped in a tunnel cave-in not knowing if anyone else has survived.</p><p> </p><p>Happy Birthday, Terri Spencer!</p><p>Dedicated to my sister from another mister, Spencer5460, the only person I would want by my side during a tunnel cave-in. Uhhh, well you know I wouldn’t really want my best friend to experience that, but, well, gee whiz, you know what I mean. I love you!</p><p>Inspired by the song “When The Morning Comes” by Great Big World.<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZbY_2bLM4k</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Hear Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I mention Princess Elizabeth ll, now Queen of England, in this fic. In 1942 at the age of sixteen, Elizabeth like all the other English girls of her age volunteered to work for the war effort. Elizabeth wanted to be a nurse and work in the most hard hit parts of London. Her father the King would not allow that, but he did take her to visit the war torn streets to bring hope to the homeless sitting among the bombed out ruins of their former homes. By age 18 Elizabeth joined the volunteer services and spent her time maintaining and driving trucks. The thought of this great world leader and matronly lady dressed in overalls and combat boots changing truck tires made my day. Long live the Queen.

~~~HH~~~

When the lights go out  
And the bombs come down  
I will hear your heart beating  
When the morning comes  
And the war is done  
You will hear my heart beating

~Great Big World~

~~~HH~~~

The bomber rumbled through the night. The full moon was waning and fast moving clusters of clouds hid it from view one moment, then revealed it like a magician's trick the next. It was a pretty good night for a bombing raid, but Captain Stewart had a really bad feeling about this mission. He tried to shake it off, maybe it was just that Colonel Crittenden was such an oaf. The Captain sighed. Crittenden wasn’t the worst commanding officer he’d ever had, but he was surely in the top five.

The navigator of the British Avro Lancaster called out to the Captain.

“We’ll be over the target in three minutes, Sir.” 

The Captain acknowledged his man and ordered the bombardier to stand by. He craned his neck to see out the cockpit’s window and try to get a visual of the rocket factory Crittenden said was located at these coordinates. Unlike some pilots, he didn’t agree with bombing non-military targets to demoralize the German people. He figured they’d be demoralized enough when the allies won the war.

The Captain nudged his co-pilot. “Can you make out anything on the ground?”

“Looks like a military compound of some type. I see lights around the perimeter and a search light.”

“Do you see any farms? Civilian houses?” Captain Stewart had the reputation of being precise and accurate in his bombing, able to complete the mission and minimize civilian loss. He also had the rep of never failing to bring his men home safe. 

“Definitely not, Sir.” 

The navigator broke in, “Over target in one minute, Captain.”

“Got the target in my sights, Captain. Fifteen seconds. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two…”

“Bombs away,” ordered the Captain.

Just then the moon came through the clouds and bathed the ground with silvery light. The Captain got a good look at the target just after the first bomb was away. Not a manufacturing facility at all, but barracks, barbed wire, and the red cross on the roof of an infirmary.

“Abort! Abort! he cried. “Goddamn Crittenden! He gave us the wrong Goddamn coordinates! That’s a POW camp! Those are _our _boys!”__

The entire crew watched in horror as the bomb they were not able to stop exploded, turning the peaceful camp to blazing ruin.

~~~HH~~~

It happened so fast  
The way it tore right through  
Can't erase what has passed  
But we're still alive  
In a world that  
Wants to keep us inside

~~~HH~~~

 

Darkness. 

Sergeant Andrew Carter opened his eyes and blinked several times. Panic raced through him. 

_I’m blind. Oh! God! I’m blind! Wha’ happened? Am I dead? Am I alone? Peter! ___

“Peter!” he thought again, only this time he spoke his thought aloud as he kept blinking. He tried to remember what happened. He had been working on a new kind of glue in his lab in the tunnels when Newkirk had literally dragged him into the wardrobe alcove to help with some German great coats he was hemming. Carter had whined but soon found himself up on a metal stool wearing a General’s overcoat. 

_Peter promised me macaroons. Said we’d have a proper tea when we were done. Then the world exploded. ___

Carter had been thrown from the stool into a corner up against the dirt wall of the tunnel. He tried to move but a searing pain in his leg took his breath away. After a moment he reached down to find his legs were covered with dirt, debris and something else. Something sharp and painful. He couldn’t move his left leg at all. He yelped in pain when he tried.

_Cave-in. Bad. This is really bad. Where’s Peter? Did he get out? ___

“Peter?” Carter choked and coughed, then tried again. “Peter? Are you here?”

Carter heard a soft, “Blimey. ” Then a cough and a groan, followed immediately by a panicked, “Andrew!”

Carter inhaled too quickly and had to cough out a “I’m here, buddy. I’m here.”

“I can’t see a bloody thing! ‘old on I’ll find ya.” 

Newkirk crawled to where he’d heard Carter’s wheezy breathing and muffled coughs. He felt an arm and grabbed it, sighing with relief at its warmth. Then Newkirk sat up and pulled Carter into an embrace. Carter held on tight.

“Oh, bloody ‘ell, mate,” Carter could hear the emotion in Newkirk’s voice. “I thank me lucky stars you’re alive. That we’re both alive.”

Carter nodded into Newkirk’s dust covered sweater, unable to say anything. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. A few tears ran down his dirty face making tracks Newkirk couldn’t see. He turned his head slightly and listened to Newkirk’s heartbeat. It was strong.

Newkirk drew back a little, but didn’t let go. “Andrew? You alright? You 'urt anywhere?”

Carter nodded his head, yes, then realized Newkirk couldn’t see him or his half-buried body and changed his answer quickly, “No, Peter. I’m okay, but I think I might have gone blind.”

“No worries, mate. I can’t see me hand in front of me face either. Ruddy disconcertin’ that. What do you think ‘appened?”

Newkirk moved to sit next to Carter with his back against the tunnel wall. Without ever letting go of his friend, he settled in, then threw an arm around Carter’s shoulder.

Carter smiled and found Newkirk’s hand and held it on his leg. He knew his friend was as scared as he was of the utter darkness. Carter took a deep breath, that ended in a racking cough. Pain serged through his body and he gripped Newkirk’s hand hard.

“Andrew?”

“I’m fine,” he cleared his throat, “just inhaled half the tunnel that’s all, buddy. I remember hearing an explosion. I hate to think this but it sounded like one of ours. Well, one of yours. I mean an RAF bomber.”

“Wha’? You mean the camp was bombed? By our own planes?”

“I can’t be sure. But it sounded like the kind of bombs the Lancasters use. Heavy bombs, deep penetration in the ground. Enough explosives to take out a camp this size with two, maybe three bombs. The Germans have nothing so efficient.” Carter suddenly realized that he might be making Newkirk feel worse. ”Sorry, I get carried away… It could have been the Germans... ”

Newkirk patted his hand. “Don’t con a conman, Andrew. I’m sure your instincts are right. We were bombed by our own.”

Newkirk froze and pulled away from Carter. Carter shivered at the loss of warmth. He felt a soft movement of air as Newkirk stood up.

“Andrew? You think there’s anyone left? You think they’re all dead? The Colonel, LeBeau, Kinch, Wilson? Everybody?”

“Peter, it’s gonna be alright. The guys will have a lot to organize, but they should be able to dig us out in a few hours. You know the best thing to do is to rest. Come sit by me. It’s real creepy not being able to see you when you talk.”

“They are dead, Andrew! There won’t be any one to dig us out.” His voice was as dark as the surrounding tomb they were buried in.

The alcove was roughly a semicircle, what was left of a tunnel they had decided against digging. Newkirk had claimed it for his sewing nook. There was one large opening and now and it was completely buried. Carter was sitting up against what was the far side of the entrance. It was now a pile of wood, stone and dirt, probably about six foot deep, if they were lucky.

“Peter! Don’t! They are not dead.”

“Wha’ if the camp is levelled? Even if the Krauts care enough to dig Klink out, wha’ makes you think they’ll even look for the likes of us?”

“They wouldn’t but the guys would never…”

“Oh, Shut up, Carter!” Newkirk pressed his hands into the tunnel wall. He clenched his hands into fists and started to pound.

 

“Colonel! Colonel ‘ogan! Help us! We need help! Oh, bloody ’ell we need help!”

The soft sound of freshly fallen dirt was the only answer. Carter covered his head fearing another shift in the tunnel walls. The movement made him groan with pain.

“Peter. Please. Stop.”

Newkirk began to feel the walls to see how much room they had in their dirt prison. He moved slowly pushing litter out of his way with each shuffling step. His boot hit something metal and he stooped to pick it up. He ran a hand over it and recognised a German helmet, the kind Sergeant Schultz wore. He kicked around and found another under some uniform coats.

“Peter? What are you doin’ buddy?”

Carter felt a light kick to his side that made him gasp.

“Get up, Carter. We can dig ourselves out with these ‘elmets. I need you to feel around for the best spot to start diggin.’” He kicked Carter again a little harder.

“Peter, we can’t. I… I can’t.”

“Get up, Carter. Now!” Newkirk grabbed his arm and pulled.

Carter gritted his teeth to hold back a scream. “My leg. My leg. Peter, it’s stuck. I’m stuck. Let me go. Please!”

Newkirk dropped his arm as if it were on fire. He fell to his knees next to Carter. The helmets in his hand fell to the ground with a dull thud.

“Cor, blimey. Andrew, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Carter was panting with his eyes closed trying to hold himself together for the sake of his friend. Carter felt Newkirk gently examining his legs. Newkirk’s hands left his body and Carter knew he was feeling for whatever was pinning his left leg. The sound of Newkirk’s curse and falling dirt let Carter know he was not going anywhere.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were stuck, ya ruddy fool? There’s a bloody big support beam and a ton a dirt on your leg. I think your leg might be broke, mate. ‘ow much pain are ya in, Andrew?”

Carter sighed, “Not so bad if I don’t move.”

“I’m so sorry… Andrew… I…”

“Peter, come here, buddy.”

“I don’t want to hurt ya. ‘old on a tick.”

Carter anxiously listened to Newkirk’s quiet movements. He suddenly felt weight against his body and even though he was still wearing a German General’s coat he was grateful for the added warmth of more overcoats. Newkirk wrapped Carter in several and pulled one over himself. When Newkirk was close enough Carter pulled his head into his lap and hugged him close.

“Just lay there, Peter. For a little while. You know it’s best if we don’t move around a lot. Colonel always said, If you’re in a cave-in, get on the ground, conserve your energy and your air and wait for rescue.”

“I’ll rest a bit, but then I’ll dig you out, mate. I’ll go real slow.”

“It’s okay, buddy. I’ll just wait for the Colonel and Scotty Wilson. Our medic will know what to do if my leg is broke.”

Newkirk gave in with a sigh. He knew Carter’s faith in Colonel Hogan was unshakable. Newkirk shivered and hoped he was wrong about the others being dead, more for Carter’s sake than his own, he needed to be a comfort to his little injured mate.

~~~HH~~~

What happened before  
Was a waste of time  
I don't care anymore  
I wanna move on  
There is so much more  
Than who's right or who's wrong

~~~HH~~~

Newkirk didn’t know how long he lay with his head on Carter’s lap. He must have fallen into a light doze. There was actually more light when his eyes were closed than when the were opened. He listened to Carter’s labored breathing and watched the light show playing on the back of his eyelids. Silver and red flashes flit across his eyes and a rainbow of flickering sparks teased at his peripheral vision. He was trying to catch a glimpse of what was hiding in the shadows of his mind when Carter’s shaky voice startled him to awareness.

“You know, Newkirk, I’ve been away from home so long. And after Mary Jane ditched me I guess I think the things I did in my old life were pretty much a waste of time. What I do now, with the team. This is important. We’re fighting for so much more than who’s right or who’s wrong. It’s become personal. I’m fighting for Sammy and for all the guys we rescue and for my new brothers. We won’t ever give up on each other.”

Newkirk moved his head a little and wished he could see those kind eyes that always gave him comfort. He settled for listening to his friend’s steady heartbeat, glad to hear it beating. After a little while, he shared his own thoughts with his friend. “I ‘ate the dark, Andrew. Not scared of it, mind. Just ‘ate blackouts. The dark and the waitin’ for the whine of the bombs.” 

Carter stroked Newkirk’s hair. Newkirk smiled in the darkness. His sister used to do that during bombing raids in London.

“That musta been awful. Havin’ your hometown blow up around you. Us Americans can’t even start to understand how that feels.”

“Like livin’ in ‘ell. The fires and the sooty black fog. Places you used to custom. Shopkeeps you knew. All in bloody rubble when the dawn light filtered through the blackout curtains.”

Newkirk shifted a little and he heard Carter catch his breath and slowly exhale. “You alright, Andrew? Don’t lie to me again.”

“I can’t feel my left leg any more, Peter.” Carter snorted out a weak laugh. “At least it doesn’t hurt.” Carter stopped Newkirk from jumping up. “Peter stay where you are, please? It...it … helps.” 

Newkirk relaxed, having decided that as soon as Carter fell asleep he’d start digging on the other side of the entrance with the helmet that still sat by his side.

“Peter, did you lose your home? Is that why you signed up with the RAF?”

Newkirk patted Carter’s hand. “Not quite, Andrew. Me and Mavis, me sis, were at me Auntie’s ‘ouse when me Mum’s flat was ‘it by a bomb. Mavis and I were called down to the ‘ospital. Mum was bad ‘urt and died three days later. We got to say goodbye at least. Then I got Mavis situated at me Auntie’s and I ‘it the streets. Ran with a bloody rough crowd. But it was a very special bird that got me to fly.”

“Awww. Were you in love, buddy. Is she waitin’ for you?” Carter hoped it hadn’t turned out like him and Mary Jane.

Newkirk chuckled. “This love is gonna last a lifetime and she doesn’t even know me ruddy name. See, one day I was smokin’ a cigarette sittin’ on the rubble of what used to be the best little fish and chips shop on Marylebone Road, and I spied a couple of bloody MP types, ya know, Member of Parliament blokes, in new suits scoutin’ the area.”

“Well, I was into a bit of the old slight of hand in the pocket back then, and these two looked likely. Then I spotted a pretty little lass in combat boots chattin’ up old Albert who haunted the rubble like a bleedin’ spook, lookin’ for salvage. The little lady caught my eye and her and the suits sauntered over to me. And ya know who that pretty little bird was, Andrew?”

Carter tried to answer with his usual enthusiasm. After all it was very seldom that Newkirk would open up like this. He coughed and said, “Who, Peter?”

Newkirk noticed the weakness in Carter’s voice but kept on with his tale.

“Princess Elizabeth. The ruddy Princess of England. Seems like she got it into ‘er royal ‘ead that the people needed to see that she gave a damn about ‘em. She walked around and gave comfort. She sat next to me and took me ‘and. Asked if I had lost me ‘ome, asked about me family. Wanted to know if I had a place to stay, told me about a shelter and a soup kitchen nearby. She told me she wanted to volunteer as a nurse right in the middle of London, but her ol’ dad, the King, wouldn’t allow it. Oh, Andrew she was like a little English angel settled down on the ruins of the city.”

“Wow, Peter. You held hands with a real live Princess?”

“Better, still. I asked if I could kiss her hand and she said, ‘Yes, but don’t tell the King.’”

Carter ‘s laugher filled the darkness. “If that don’t beat all, you dog.”

“The next day I joined up. Kept thinkin’ I wanted that little Princess to be proud of me.”

“Hey! Maybe when the war is over, you’ll get a medal and she would pin it on and she’d remember you. You could be a prince!”

Newkirk really laughed at that notion. “Blimey, ya crazy yank," he paused. "You know, Elizabeth has a sister.”

“Prince Andrew. Has a nice ring to it, buddy.” Newkirk slowly got up and sat beside Carter. “You must be tired, mate. Why don’t you lean against me and try to sleep.”

“No, I want to be awake when the guys get here.” Newkirk took Carter’s now cold hand in his. He took Carter’s pulse. It was a little weak. 

“Carter, you need some rest. You may be in shock.”

Carter pulled his hand away. “You just want to start digging. I told you, no. You can’t see, so you can’t judge where it’s safe to dig. If you start digging in the dark, you’re going to exhaust and maybe hurt yourself and me. You’ll cause another shift and we might both be buried. We’ll just wait for the guys…”

“NO! No one is comin’ ya bloody fool! I got to get you outta ‘ere.”

“No! Peter! I KNOW there’ll be here.”

“How in bloody ‘ell do you KNOW they’re still alive, huh? How do you KNOW?”

The shouts of the two men fell flat against the soft dirt walls and dropped, buried where no one else could hear them. The resulting silence was deafening as the darkness pressed against them both like phantom hands around their necks.

Carter’s quiet voice held the answer, “I had a vision.”

~~~HH~~~

Oh oh oh  
We can shake it  
Oh oh oh  
Let the pieces fall  
Oh oh oh  
We can take it  
I believe  
I believe  
I believe

~~~HH~~~

Newkirk rubbed his face with dirt stained hands he could not see. He reached over and threw an arm around Carter again. Newkirk felt the tension leave the slight frame of his best friend. ”Tell me.”

“You know I’m Lakota, Sioux.”

Newkirk nodded in the dark, then answered quietly, “I know, mate.”

“Well, when a Sioux boy becomes a man, he must go to find his purpose… Hembleclya, it means crying for a dream. A vision quest. I went to visit my Grandfather, who still lives on the rez and follows the old ways. I wanted to tell him I was going to enlist. He knew I was underage. He also knew that after my brother Sammy was shot down and killed over France, there was no way I was not going to enlist. So he sent me on a vision quest to the Badlands of North Dakota.”

“I’m sorry about your brother, mate. I didn’t know.”

“I don’t like to talk about it. And all the guys in the camp have lost someone close to them, a brother or a buddy that’s like a brother.” Carter laid his head on Newkirk’s shoulder. “I lost one brother and gained four. You, Kinch, LeBeau and the biggest big brother of us all, Colonel Hogan.”

Newkirk patted Carter’s hand. “Tell me about these Badlands. Sounds a bit hinky to me.”

“North Dakota is nothing like London, that’s for sure. You can stand in a wheat field and watch the wind make waves across the grain straight out to the horizon without a soul around. I knew a place where you could stand on a butte and see the last of the buffalo dot the plains. The Badlands are barren, rocky and hilly. Not a place to grow crops, but beauty as far as you could see. My Grandfather knew I would find my animal guide there and obtain my vision.”

Newkirk was caught up in Carter’s words. Without any light in their dark tomb, he could envision the open land spread out before him in the colors of sunlight, yellow, gold, and amber. “Animal guide?”

“Yeah, it’s a spirit that takes the form of an animal. It will guide you in a vision or a dream. You might see a real animal, or see one in a dream and you will know it’s a sign from the spirit world. You could be warned of danger or helped to find your path in life.” 

“Wha’ ‘appened to you?” Newkirk imagined he could see Carter’s big blue eyes widen like always when he told a tale of North Dakota. Newkirk had started to think of it as a magic kingdom of wide open spaces and big sky that produced balmy little imps like Carter.

“Well the second night out in the Badlands, I was pretty hungry. I had some water, but no food. I was looking up at the stars. There were millions that night, and the Northern lights began to flicker in the midnight blue sky. Then I heard a soft sound next to me and out of the brush came a little deer. Like my name, little deer who runs swiftly through the forest.”

“Blimey, I woulda jumped outta my skin.” Newkirk pulled Carter a little closer. He pressed his hand onto Carter’s forehead. “You’re a bit warm, mate.”

“I feel cold, buddy.”

Newkirk adjusted the overcoats so they covered Carter completely. He moved until he was partially behind Carter and could place his body between Carter and the cold, damp wall of the half-buried alcove. Newkirk carefully pulled Carter against him.

That’s better, thanks, Peter.”

“Now go on wit’ ya.”

“So the little deer came right to me and let me pet him. He had great big brown eyes and they seemed so sorrowful. He turned to stare at the Northern Lights, that were dancing on the horizon like the old Sioux warriors around a campfire. Then the lights changed. They looked like explosions of flame and smoke. Out of the smoke came four eagles. One with green feathers, one with red, one with blue and leading them, one with brown feathers. They flew into the fire without being burned. They circled and the sky swirled around them, till all was blue and fair and the morning was coming.” 

“I became one with the little deer next to me and changed into an eagle with black feathers. I took off and joined the others. Throughout the whole vision I could hear my heart beating and when I joined my brother eagles, I could hear all our hearts beating in a drum rhythm like a song made of only heartbeats. They eagles flew together into the sun and the dawn began.”

In the oppressive dark, Newkirk could see the lights, the fire. He knew he was the blue eagle in this tale and he smiled.

Carter took Newkirk’s hands in his and squeezed them. “This is how I know they are alive, buddy. I believe in my vision. I believe we will make it, I believe we can shake this old war and let the pieces fall from the sky. I believe we can take everything they can dish out, even fire and bombs and darkness.”

“Andrew…”

“I can hear their hearts beating, Peter. I can hear your heart beating. And I swear to you all of our hearts will still be beating when the war is done. The eagles will fly into the dawn.” Carter ended in a fit of rough coughs and pain. He groaned in to Newkirk’s chest.

“Take it easy. Take it easy, I believe too, Andrew. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be ‘earin’ the last beat of your ‘eart . I won’t allow it. You are too balmy to die, anyway. Easy, now. That’s it. Guess I’ll just join ya in waitin’ on the guys.”

~~~HH~~~

When the lights go out  
And the bombs come down  
I will hear your heart beating  
When the morning comes  
And the war is done  
You will hear my heart beating

~~~HH~~~

The ominous sound of creaking timbers made Newkirk hold his breath and hold Carter close. The hissing of dirt flowing freely, made him cover both their heads with his coat.

“Peter,” Carter was whispering now, “I think the entrance is gonna fall again. You need to move against the far wall.”

“Not ‘appenin’. Carter. Not leavin’ ya.”

The hiss of dirt falling turned to the rush of an earthen waterfall. Clouds of black dust assaulted their lungs. Newkirk moved just enough to cover the upper half of Carter’s body with his own, pulling his coat over them to act as a shield. Newkirk’s back twitched as rocks and dirt tried to bury him. He pulled his legs up tight to Carter’s side and tried to shrug off the accumulation of debris from his back. He kept up a litany of calming words for Carter’s sake, while inside his head was shouting his very best obscenities.

When the fall was over. Newkirk grew still and listened to Carter’s heart beat. Pounding fast from adrenaline, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He held on and hugged his best friend who coughed and wheezed out the words, “Peter? You… you okay? Peter! Light, light!”

Newkirk jerked up. Dirt fell all around him as he shook off his coat and stood. At the center of where the entrance used to be and three feet above Carter’s head, light was filtering in. There was a round hole the size of a small man. Then Newkirk heard muffled voices.

“We’re through, Colonel. A little bit more and we’ll be able to send LeBeau in,” said the firm voice of Kinch.

“Let me go in now, mon Colonel. I will squeeze,” LeBeau pleaded.

“I know, Louis, but just wait till Kinch says it’s safe,” reasoned Colonel Hogan.

“I do not care! They could be injured!” cried Lebeau fiercely. 

Wilson the medic chimed in. “Then I should go first like I said before.” 

Newkirk shook his head and laughed. “Andrew, there’ll all ‘ere. I can ‘ear ‘em bickerin’ about ‘ow to save our bloomin’ arses.” 

Newkirk returned to Carter and removed the overcoats to shake the dirt off. He pushed back some hair that was in Carter’s eyes and looked at the bright smile and blue eyes shining out of his soot covered face. “ ‘old on a little longer, mate. It’s almost over.” 

Carter closed his eyes and relaxed.

Newkirk examined where Carter’s left leg seemed to disappear into the wall. He lightly brushed away the surface covering of dirt and he saw the metal hemming stool was crushed against Carter’s leg by most of the cave in. Newkirk reached under Carter’s leg and felt cool wetness.

He had been bleeding, but must have stopped because of the pressure on the wound. Most likely his leg had been pierced by the metal of the stool. If Newkirk had dug it out in the dark, without knowing…”

“Andrew. You were right, mate. I mighta caused more damage… Andrew?” 

Carter was still and quiet. Newkirk watch him take slow labored breaths in sleep. Newkirk shook out his German overcoat and covered Carter again, he lingered a moment and placed a hand on his heart. “I believe, when this is all over, I will 'ear your 'eart beating, too, Andrew.”

Newkirk stood and went to the opening which seemed to be wider on the other end. He cleared his throat, “‘ello,’ello! Wha’s keepin’ ya? I got an appointment with Princess Elizabeth I gotta keep. She’s ‘avin’ me and Carter round for tea!”

Newkirk chuckled as the other side of the wall erupted in shouts, laughter and questions. They sounded muffled and far away, but he could make out most of it.

“I’m alright, but Carter’s in a bit of a mess. Got ‘is leg pinned by a metal stool and about a ton of Stalag Thirteen.” Newkirk heard concerned voices and shuffling footsteps along with the steady sound of shovels digging. Wilson’s voice shouted into the opening.

“Is he conscious, Newkirk?”

Newkirk looked down at the still form of his friend. “I think ‘e’s asleep. He’s been awake the whole time, Wilson. It’s just ‘is lower left leg. I think the stool pierced it, ‘e lost some blood.”

Newkirk heard Wilson confer with Colonel Hogan, he could guess what they were saying even without being able to make out the words. Carter was in for a lot of pain.

This time it was Hogan’s steady voice coming through the gap and he felt anxiety roll off his shoulders. “Peter, it won’t be long till we break through. I don’t want any more dirt to end up on your side. Sit with Andrew and try to wake him up. Try to cover yourselves if you can. Sit tight. I’m going to push through a canteen.”

“Right, Colonel. Will do.” Newkirk waited till he saw a olive drab canvas bag being pushed through the opening. He reached into the hole and grabbed it, pulling it off of a nail hammered into a broomstick. He took the clean canteen out of the bag gratefully, silently rejoicing that they were so close to getting out.

Hogan voiced one more concern. “Peter? You sure you’re not injured in any way?”

“Never better, Sir.”

“Good. That’s good.” Newkirk heard the catch in Hogan’s voice.

“It’ll be alright, Sir. Guess we both been through the wringer on this one. But remember next time you're givin’ out clean-up duty, I’ve been trapped in the dark with our Andrew for hours. Pity me, Sir.”

Newkirk got the tension-relieving laugh from the Colonel he was looking for. Later in private, he’d tell the Colonel how Carter held them both together with his tales of North Dakota and his faith. Most of the dust had settled as Newkirk made his way back to Carter’s side.

Carter was slumped over towards the wall in the corner and Newkirk gently lifted him. He got behind him as he had earlier and wrapped his arms around him. He spoke softly in his ear. “Andrew wake up, love. We still ‘ave that tea to go to at the palace. You and me and the Princesses.” Newkirk had his own kind of vision.

Carter’s head fell backwards against Newkirk and he murmured, “Princesses?” He opened his eyes and felt the welcome taste of cool water on his lips. He drank a few mouthfuls and smiled up at Newkirk. “Hey, buddy, I can see you. Huh. You are way too filthy for a tea party, pal.”

Newkirk laughed. Carter sipped some more water and reached up with a shaky hand to wipe his lips. “Peter? Did you just call me love?”

“Balmy, twit. Why would I do that?”

Carter just shrugged.

“Orders are to 'old tight, mate. They’ll be here quick as you can say, Bob’s your uncle.”

“I have an Uncle Bob. Used to like to dress up like Teddy Roosevelt and blow his trumpet and yell ‘Charge!’. He taught me how to play ‘The Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy’… well, the first part of it anyway. He was teaching me the chorus when the cops came and confiscated his trumpet...”

“Carter, you need to conserve your air.”

“But the guys are diggin’ us out, there’s plenty of air flow!”

“It’s a good idea anyway, mate.”

Carter licked his lips again. “I sure could use that tea and macaroons you promised me.”

“Blimey! I forgot!” Newkirk pulled a bag of partially crushed macaroons out of his uniform jacket pocket. He dug around and gave one to Carter. “There ya go.”

“Oh, boy!” Carter took the cookie gingerly in his fingers, trying not to get dirt on it. He popped it in his mouth whole. 

Newkirk chuckled and wondered, not for the first time, if Carter was the bravest man he knew or the silliest kid in the war.

“Sure. Here I am worried sick about you two and I find you cuddling and eating dessert.”

Carter and Newkirk looked up to find LeBeau hanging halfway out of the hole in the wall, a giant grin on his face.

Newkirk’s eyes lit up. “I am not cuddling ‘im. I’m savin’ ‘im from ‘ypothermia and ‘elpin’ ‘im keep ‘is strength up.” 

“Your secret is safe with me, I am French after all. Don’t move mes amis.” LeBeau’s tone was serious now. “You have been through enough. We will take care of everything.”

LeBeau disappeared back into the wall and Carter and Newkirk watched as he widened the hole. It wasn’t long till it was wide and deep enough for a man Kinch’s size to get through. Newkirk figured they were making it big enough for some sort of improvised stretcher for Carter. 

The next grinning face they saw was Scotty Wilson’s as he clutched a bag of medical supplies in his arms which he gently dropped to the ground. He flipped onto his back and pushed himself out of the hole. It was big enough now for a man to kneel in if he ducked his head.

Wilson rubbed his hands together to rid them of dirt. He went right to Carter and took his wrist in his somewhat clean hand and glanced at his watch, taking Carter’s pulse. He nodded at Newkirk, who looked at him pleadingly. “Andrew, my boy. What have you done to yourself this time?”

“Well, Scotty. There was this cave in and I woke up and my leg was stuck. It hurt a lot, but it’s numb now. That’s not good is it?”

“Who’s to say? If it doesn’t hurt that’s good for right now.” Wilson flashed another discerning look at Newkirk. “You alright, son? Don’t hide an injury from me, or I’ll hide the medicinal whiskey I was going to prescribe for you.”

“I’m not 'urt, Wilson. But I’m not leavin’ till me mate does.”

Wilson nodded. He pressed his hand against Carter’s forehead, then pulled out a small flashlight and looked in Carter’s eyes. Wilson quickly searched Carter’s head for cuts and bumps. Satisfied, he patted Carter’s cheek. “I’m going to look at your leg, Andrew.” Wilson placed a hand briefly on Newkirk’s arm. “Keep him still.”

Kinch’s head was the next to be seen coming out of the wall. He jumped out and pulled behind him a slim stretcher filled with blankets and flashlights. Kinch unloaded his burdens, grabbed two blankets and crouched beside Carter and Newkirk. He wrapped a blanket around Newkirk and the other around Carter as he kept up a slightly nervous one sided conversation.

“Oh, man! We thought you two were goners when we heard the bomb explode in the compound. Luckily it was only one bomb, dropped by a Lancaster. It took out the infirmary, but no one was in there, thank God. I guess this alcove was unstable. I’m so sorry, guys. We should have gone over all the parts of the tunnel where men might be caught in an air raid. The Colonel and I have been kicking ourselves over that. We lost the tunnel to the infirmary and part of the tunnel that goes to Klink’s office. Nothing we can’t repair. You should have heard the Colonel on the horn to London. He was breathing fire. When he found out the bomber was given the wrong coordinates by Colonel Crittenden.” 

Newkirk stopped his monologue by grabbing Kinch’s arm tightly.. “Crittenden? Crittenden is responsible? Crittenden is responsible for our Andrew gettin’ ‘urt?” 

Carter let out a moan, as Wilson examined his leg. Both his friends quieted. “It’s okay, guys. I’ll be fine, right Scotty?”

Wilson had a shot of morphine ready in his hands. Newkirk and Kinch exchanged worried glances. Kinch moved aside to make more room for the medic, and Newkirk held Carter tighter. Carter held tighter, too.

Wilson smiled. “Andrew, you are going to be fine. I’m sending you to LaLa land, via the morphine express. You are one lucky soldier. I promise you, no pain, my boy. And you’ll wake up in a nice warm bed surrounded by… well, I can’t promise you pretty nurses, only ugly mugs. But still I’ll make them wait on you hand and foot.”

Carter swallowed a hard lump in his throat. He nodded and Wilson gave him the shot quickly and efficiently. It didn’t hurt. It was nice that Scotty was going to relieve his pain. Morphine made him go out like a light. But he didn’t know what he would wake up to. He was trying to find some way to express his trepidation when the smiling face of Colonel Hogan was in front of him.

“It’s alright, Andrew. You rest now. I’m proud of you, Sergeant. You kept your head and kept Newkirk calm. That’s saying something.”

Carter heard laughter and chuckled himself. If his friends were laughing and the Colonel was proud of him then he was doing just fine. His friends watched him smile as he slipped away from them. He never saw the grim faces that replaced the smiles put on for his benefit.

Newkirk sighed as his friend went limp in his arms. Unshed tears filled Newkirk’s eyes as he gritted his teeth and said to the Colonel. “Crittenden is a dead man.”

Hogan nodded, “You’ll have to take a number. I heard Captain Stewart who flew the misguided mission, had to be pulled off Crittenden by his entire crew when they returned. But not before Crittenden was sporting two black eyes and a broken wrist.”

Newkirk wiped his eyes on his sleeve and gave the Colonel a crooked smile. “Remind me to buy the good Captain a brew next time we’re in London, Sir.”

~~~HH~~~

Kinch and LeBeau worked feverishly to free Carter’s leg as Wilson barked out orders. Colonel Hogan tried to help Newkirk hold Carter still while letting Newkirk vent his rage. Hogan knew Newkirk was just as hurt as Carter. He already planned on taking Newkirk aside getting him cleaned up and fed. Then plying him with whisky till he could wrestle him into his bunk for some much needed sleep.

The usually stoic Wilson was being defeated by the filthy conditions around him. Kinch finally uncovered Carter’s leg. A piece of the stool’s braces had entered Carter’s leg like a knife. Wilson had Kinch pull it out while he held Carter’s leg still. Wilson cursed the dirt falling around the wound as he wrapped it temporarily in gauze to stop the bleeding.

 

_Damn this war. It will be a Goddamn miracle if this boy doesn’t get an infection and lose that leg. ___

Wilson glanced up at Kinch who was rubbing his hands on his pants, trying to remove Carter’s blood. Kinch's expression was one of shock and concern. Wilson sighed.

_All these men need to get out of this tomb. ___

“Let’s get him out of here and cleaned up. Pronto,” Wilson ordered.

Newkirk had been holding Carter tight as he whimpered with the pain that still reached him in his drugged state. Newkirk whispered in his ear the whole time, elaborating on their upcoming tea with the Princesses. It didn’t register with his weary mind when Wilson gave the order to move Carter onto the stretcher.

“Let me take him, Peter.” Hogan said softly as he placed a hand on Newkirk’s shoulder and squeezed. Hogan turned towards LeBeau who had been bouncing in place trying to avoid looking at Carter’s leg. Hogan called him, “Lebeau, take Newkirk out.”

LeBeau, glad to be doing something useful, took Newkirk’s arm. _“Viens avec moi, Pierre. Andre’ _is in good hands. Let me help you. Come, I will make you a nice hot cup of tea and we will wait for our friend together, _oui?”___

Newkirk nodded in weary agreement as Hogan moved behind Carter to lift him to the stretcher. A hand on his wrist stopped Newkirk cold.

“Pe… ter?” Carter’s blue eyes were droopy and his voice was just a dreamy whisper. He moved his hand and placed it over Newkirk’s heart. Newkirk smiled and placed his hand over Carter’s heart.

“Still beatin’,” said Carter. He smiled as he drifted off to fly with the eagles till dawn.

~~~HH~~~

When the lights go out  
And the bombs come down  
I will hear your heart beating  
When the morning comes  
And the war is done  
You will hear my heart beating

I will hear your heart beating.

~~~HH~~~


End file.
